The whip left my behind. I braced myself. Prickling, shrinking skin; hairs raised. Fluttering belly: that mix of nerves and anticipation. Chest heaving; mouth pooling with thick saliva.
“You stay on your knees,” she spat, close to my ear.
Again I did as she said, completely prone, never knowing when the first strike would land. I saw nothing. The shirt material clung to my face, the patch by my mouth saturated. I heard it all. I heard her telling him to come to her, the sound of the zip and the swish of pulled-down jodhpurs. I heard the sounds of her sucking on his c**k, her joyful moans as she brought him to life in her mouth. I could make out when he entered her, right behind me, close enough for her to use the whip on my prone backside at any time. She had to be on all fours just as
